


Why Connor has a few more wrinkles than Murphy

by paper_wrangler



Category: Boondock Saints
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_wrangler/pseuds/paper_wrangler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Connor's plans goes just a little bit wrong, but Murphy's the one there when it goes bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Connor has a few more wrinkles than Murphy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gentlezombie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlezombie/gifts).



> Merry Christmas gentlezombie! I hope you like it!

Murphy glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye as they walked up the stairs to their shitty motel room. One more in a long line of shitty motel rooms they'd seen since leaving Boston and bringing the Saints particular style of divine retribution to the rest of America.

Conner wasn't looking at him. Hadn't looked at him in fact since he'd dragged Murphy out of the wreak of a drug dealers living room. Murphy could see the muscle in Connor's jaw clench, and unclench, and was surprised his normally fiery twin wasn't already chewing him out for his stupidity.

 

It wasn't like he had meant to end up with a more than slightly pissed off drug-dealer by the name of Andrew Wain pointing a gun at his head, and holding a knife alarmingly close to his dick. It was supposed to be a simple, in and out, one-person job. He and Connor had found themselves increasingly busy, trying to make even some kind of dent in the long list of evil men. Simplest to find easy jobs together, and then split up and get the work done faster.

Of course, that was when things went according to plan, not when drug dealers decided to make themselves a snack, and be in the fucking kitchen, instead of the living room when Murphy burst through the door. That's when the plan had gone to hell. Granted Connor's plans never quite worked out like they were supposed to, as Murphy loved to remind him, but this one had been beyond working even with a McManus' fluid definition of the word.

So he'd come in the front door, gotten into the living room and seen only a wasted junkie, moaning on the ratty couch. A wasted junkie in front of the card-table his target was supposed to be counting dime bags out on. He'd sworn a blue streak, but hadn't really been worried till he heard a sound he knew very well, the cold cocking of a gun.

 

Turning his head, he was already surprised that he hadn't yet felt a bullet ripping into him. Murphy's eyes met his target's cold brown one's, and felt a little shudder. If he'd ever had any doubt about the fuckers they hunted down, the look in that man's eyes would've removed them. They were cold, and dead, and Murph felt dirty just lookin' into them.

"Get over here you little fuck." the guy had snarled at him "And drop the gun." He'd added as Murph started to walk towards him. Wain had kicked the druggie off the couch, laughing in a nasty kind of way when she knocked her head against the table. He pulled a pair of cuffs out of his waistband and tossed them to Murph.

"Sit down and put these on, or I'm gonna shoot you where it hurts, got it fag?" he ended his sentence with a sharp shove that had Murphy sprawled on the couch, the cuffs in his lap. Murphy figured the best thing to do was just go along, and locked the cuffs around his wrists.

Wain had sat down on the couch next to him, and looked him up and down in a way that had Murphy turning his head, trying hard not to puke. His head was forced back around, and Wain leered,

"Pretty face you got there, pretty mouth too. Bet it would look good sucking my cock." Murph's eyes had widened at that and he let loose, to hell with careful.

"THE FUCK I WILL YA FUCKIN' PERVERT!" and he slammed his forehead into Wain' fuckin' smirkin' face, hearing a satisfying crunch as he broke the man's nose. His satisfaction was short lived though as a gun handle crashed against his skull, shortly followed by a cruel fist to his gut. He'd doubled over, and been pushed to the floor, where a series of sharp kicks had fallen and he'd gotten hit with the gun a few more times. Then a rough hand grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back up onto the couch.

"I don't think that was such a good idea, now you're gonna have to make-up for breakin' my nose." Wain had muttered, in a voice far too calm and reasoned. "I'm gonna want to rape you, make-up for what you've done. I'll bet no one's touched that sweet ass have they? You're gonna be beggin' for it by the time I'm done with you." Wain grabbed a small knife off the coffee table, and to Murphy's discomfort, hell fear, began running it up and down the tight an worn crotch of his jeans.

"Bet no-one'll come lookin' for a punk like you," Wain gloated, "so let's just take our sweet time."  
Murphy closed his eyes, trying to block it out, crying out to Connor to save him, but Connor wouldn't come, he was on his own job. He was on his own, on his own and going to be raped, and then neither God nor Connor would want him anymore. Against his will Murphy felt tears welling up behind his eyes, he didn't want to give Wain the satisfaction, but felt one hot tear slide down his cheek and waited for that horrible touch, waited for more pain.

Instead what he heard was the front door crashing open for the second time that day, and he looked up to see his twin framed in the doorway.

 

Connor had come looking for him.

 

Murphy wasn't sure what happened next. What he was sure of was a whole lot of swearing turning the air blue, and the absolute fury on Connor's face as he looked towards the couch. But then his neck felt wet, and Connor was walking him back to the car, the hand-cuffs clattering to the pavement.

"Connor! Connor!" He managed before being literally shoved into the front seat of the car, before his twin marched round to the driver's side, got in, and threw the car into gear.

"Connor," he began before his brother cut him off.

"Shut it Murph, don't fuckin' say 'nother fuckin' word." Connor had all but yelled, his eyes not leaving the road. Murphy had complied, he knew Connor'd be angry with him for messing a simple job up, but he hadn't expected this angry. He figured the best thing he could do was shut up, at least till they got back to the room, they'd been staying in for the past week.

 

Which is why he supposes to himself, he's so nervous as he unlocks the door. The room small, with a bathroom about the size of a closet, but it's cleaner that some of the other rooms they've stayed in, so he's likes this one more. Murph tosses his stuff on one of the beds, before moving towards the bathroom. He's stopped short when Connor grabs his arm and swings him into the door, pressing him up against it. It makes his bruises ache, but Murph is so glad to have Connor up against him that he doesn't mind.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that shite again Murph." Connor murmers as he presses kisses up and down Murphy's jaw. "Jesus Christ ya took ten years off me life, you sittin there with that basterd, god just a simple job and I coulda lost ye'. God, please, Murph."

"M'sorry Conn," Murph whispers back, "M'sorry."

Connor doesn't answer, and there's not really anything more to say, they shift into the desire for each, to feel each other alive and whole, that they both need so much right now. They wrestle each other onto the bed, and it's a competition to see who can get the other's clothes off faster. Connor wins, but is kissing and licking Murph's skin as fast as he uncovers it, so Murph's not complaining. He doesn't complain either when Connor's hot mouth envelops his dick and gets him off with a single-minded intensity.

"Connor, Connor, please, please" is about all that he can manage as Connor's mouth, his talented fuckin' mouth, swallows his cum.   
Murphy lies panting on the bed as Connor strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs the lube from on top of the dresser. He whimpers happily as Connors fingers, just as talented as Connor's mouth, trace aimless patterns on his hips before massaging his opening. And by the time Connor's got him stretched out to his satisfaction, Murph's hard again with wanting Connor's cock inside him, deep inside where, yes there! He can hit that spot inside Murph where it feels so good, and he's sure he'll never feel so good again, and then Connor hits it again, and again and again, and it's all Murphy can do to catch Connor's neck with his arm and bring him down for a kiss.

It's a wet, sloppy kiss, made messy by the movements both of them are making in their need to feel each other, love each other. And it's a kiss that says, 'sorry', and 'I love you' and 'forever' and 'never go'. And it's both of them saying it, needing to say it, and both of them hearing it and understanding it.

Later after a long shower where Connor makes sure there's nowhere bruised or cut on Murphy that's not been kissed and loved better, they lay on the second bed together, Murph spooned in front of Connor, his back warmed by his brothers heat. And just as he's getting to sleep Connor whispers to him,  
"From now on we do jobs together. I'm never letting you do this alone again Murph."

And Murph just smiles and snuggles into Connor, feeling his twin's arms wrap just a little bit tighter around him, says his prayers, and thanks God for his twin just as he does every night, and falls asleep, Connor's breath warm on his neck.


End file.
